


Reflecting Into Yours

by starlightwalking



Series: synchronize into a love you've never known [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Background Elemmírë/Findis, Communication, Consent, Dorks in Love, Fealty Kink, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Premarital Sex, Size Kink, but this is the house of Finwë we're talking about it's inevitable, stupid hair puns, Ósanwe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: After (finally) getting some answers to their questions about what makes a marriage bond, Findekáno and Russandol slip away to (finally) fulfill their long-burning desires.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: synchronize into a love you've never known [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906702
Comments: 12
Kudos: 64





	Reflecting Into Yours

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said that the next installment in this series would be Finno's POV of the main fic - and I /am/ working on that! - but I got sick of his pining and needed to write him getting his dick sucked at long last. So here, have this smut I didn't plan on writing :P I did have fun with this, though - and it was nice to work out some headcanons about how LaCE would work in this bigotry-less version of Aman :)
> 
> Set about a week after "Breathing's Just A Rhythm;" there's still roughly five months to go before the wedding.

Findekáno felt Russandol’s gaze hot on the back of his neck as they walked together through the streets of Tirion. He shivered at the intensity, his lover’s need stoking his own desire, even more so for the fact that it was _Russo_ , usually so shy about what he wanted, staring at _him_...

He glanced back, smiling, and almost wished he had not. The darkness in Russo’s eyes was immense, pulling Findekáno in; he wanted to pounce on him right there in the market and devour him, or be devoured in turn.

A memory wound its way from Russandol to him: the brush of large fingers on his inner thigh, so close to where they were most wanted; a hitch of breath, a pulse of heat. That had been only this morning, as they sat together on their aunt’s porch, working up the nerve to ask her all their embarrassing questions about sex and marriage, the ones they dared not voice to their parents.

Findis and her wife were gracious, though clearly amused by how desperately they wanted one another, and ever since their questions had been answered it had been difficult for Findekáno to think of anything but the world of possibilities open before them. He knew from the prickling heat of Russandol’s mind, edging in on his own consciousness, that his beloved felt the same.

But they had visited Findis’ town house under the guise of going to the market and looking for wedding decorations. As princes of the Ñoldor with less than five months to go before their marriage, they were easily recognizable to all vendors and passers-by; they needed to be seen behaving themselves before they could slip away and...

In response to Russo’s memory, Findekáno shared one of his fantasies: Russandol kneeling before him, pressing him up against a wall, lips stretched wide around his cock—

“Finno,” Russandol growled, grabbing his wrist.

Findekáno attempted to grin up at him playfully, but his lover’s touch elicited instead a faint gasp. He wanted—he _needed_ —

“Let’s cut our trip short?” he suggested breathlessly. _I can’t wait much longer. I need you._ Their minds were open to each other, not like the agonizing days of false courtship when they had been so guarded and pained, and Findekáno yearned for the day when they would be bonded unbreakably, forever.

 _Careful,_ Russandoll murmured. _Remember what Findis said?_

Findekáno swallowed. He did remember.

(“Marriage is a bond,” their aunt had explained. “The act of union opens you up to forging that bond, more than the casual ósanwë you are familiar with, but it is not the bond itself. You may do what you wish to one another without bonding, if you are careful to keep your minds far enough apart that they do not meld together. Even the act we call consummation may be achieved, or so I have heard...but that is the easiest way of inviting your partner into your fëa. I would advise against it until your wedding night.”

“And might a...less intense act also allow for such a bond?” Russo asked nervously.

“It is less likely,” said Elemmírë, a glint in her eye. “But it is possible, yes.”

“Bonds may be created without sex, also,” Findis added, “if enough will is concentrated, and one is skilled in ósanwë. Or so the learned say. But the physical union is, again, the fastest and easiest and thus the most common method.” She raised an eyebrow. “Surely your parents could explain this to you?”

Findekáno blushed. “But they’re...our _parents_.”

Elemmírë snorted. “The advantages of being Unbegotten,” she said sagely. “Yes, we had to figure this out on our own—I count myself lucky that I never felt a draw to another elf before I met Findis!—but there were no parents at Cuiviénen to fuss over us, not until folks made themselves into them!”)

_Careful,_ Findekáno agreed, somewhat reluctantly. Even with such a fantasy within reach, now, they must still be mindful of the consequences should they lose control.

 _But you are right,_ Russandol murmured. _I cannot think for wanting you. Even if people see us sneak away..._

 _It cannot be_ more _scandalous than the way you’re looking at me, and in public no less,_ Findekáno teased.

Russandol laughed, and let go of his wrist to twine their fingers together.

“A shame that today’s chaperone is simply the crowd around us,” he mused aloud. “Just think of all the things we’d get away with if it was only Moryo we had to bribe for a blind eye...”

Findekáno tugged him down a quieter path, giddy with excitement. He was growing hard at just the thought of what lay ahead, and he was eager to find a place just for themselves.

“The grove by Haru’s orchard,” Russandol whispered. _We will be safely hidden there; the workers only go there in the mornings, and he visited only last week. He will not be there again so soon._

“I’ll meet you there,” Findekáno promised, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He lingered longer than he meant to, but eventually he pulled away. _I love you._

 _I love you,_ Russandol returned, and it never ceased to be a wonder that he meant it, after all this time.

They split up, wandering away on their own paths to Finwë’s orchard. Findekáno’s mind swam with fantasies long-considered, and he struggled to decide on which to make true first. They would save full consummation for their wedding night, but now...

He wanted to know the weight of Russo’s cock in his hand, the taste of seed on his tongue. He wanted those large hands exploring every inch of him; he wanted Russo’s mouth hot around him...

Russandol was waiting for him when he arrived. Findekáno’s breath caught at the beautiful sight: his lover’s waves of copper hair flowing freely down his back, his shirt unbuttoned to reveal the dip of his breast, his eyes half-closed and hungry, fixed only on Findekáno. He knelt in the shadow of a tree, legs spread wide, the bulge in his trousers obvious.

He was utterly enchanting. Findekáno could hardly believe this sight was all for _him_ , that Russo was _his_ , that his years of longing were finally, _finally_ over.

Russo reached out his fëa to caress Findekáno’s mind. _Melindo?_ he asked.

 _You’re gorgeous,_ he replied softly. _Eru, I love you more every time I see you._

“Come here,” Russo rasped. “Let me touch you. Please?”

Findekáno stumbled forward, falling to his knees besides his beloved. Russandol trembled as he drew Finno close, pulling him onto his lap. They both moaned as their erections brushed against one another through their clothes, and Findekáno simply could not wait any longer.

Somehow he pulled off his shirt and wriggled out of his breeches while still in Russo’s lap. Russo breathed heavily, their shared want making them both shake with anticipation.

“Are we really doing this?” Russandol asked. Findekáno could feel the nervousness radiating off him, excitement and anxiety in equal measure.

Findekáno shucked off his boots, pushing his pants off entirely. He paused before sliding off his undershorts. “Do you not want...?”

 _I do,_ Russo assured swiftly, _but..._

“We’ll go slow,” Findekáno murmured, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “And—let’s talk with our voices. Ósanwë is...a gateway to bonding, Findis said. This, right now, is about our hröar, not our fëar.”

“But I love your fëa,” Russandol protested. “Finno, that’s why I want to marry you, who _you_ are, not—”

Findekáno ground against his erection, eliciting a choked moan from his beloved. Russandol forgot his complaint, leaning forward to sink his teeth into Finno’s shoulder, and Finno let out a moan of his own.

“Vanimelda,” he gasped. “Yes, of course, and I love your fëa also, but do not try to tell me you do not also desire my hröa!”

“I’m being stupid again, aren’t I,” Russo mumbled, his laughter a puff of air on Findekáno’s neck.

 _We speak mind to mind already, without a bond,_ Findekáno said. _And now we can be physically intimate, too. Just—not at the same time. Not yet._

 _Soon,_ Russo promised, pressing their foreheads together. _Soon, my love._

“But for now...” Findekáno sighed, closing his mind off from Russandol. He felt cold, empty, alone without the comforting warmth of his beloved’s spirit a background hum within his fëa. The promise of him there _always_ made him dizzy with a need that went far beyond the flesh, but the more he clung to Russo, rolling his hips to increase the maddening friction that built between them, the more he found himself distracted by the big, beautiful body beneath him.

Russandol wrapped his arms around him, pulling him snug against his chest and devouring his mouth in a searing kiss. He palmed Findekáno through his underclothes, and Finno groaned into his mouth, biting at his lips. He remembered Russo’s fascination with his ears and twisted to nibble at one, and the sound Russandol made as he worried at the point tip went straight to his groin.

“You’re wearing too much,” Findekáno growled, releasing him for a moment. “Get this shirt off—and your pants too—”

“Do it yourself,” Russo challenged breathlessly, and Findekáno’s heart burst with joy. Oh, but how long he had wanted this moment!

He pushed Russo to the ground, tugging his tunic over his head, mussing his pretty hair and pausing to take a nipple into his mouth. Russo cried out, bucking his hips up against Findekáno’s own, and in response Finno _bit_ him, lightly so as not to damage, but it was more than enough to make Russandol _scream._

“Findekánoooo,” he wailed, and Finno had to pause for a moment as a wave of love and lust crashed over him so strongly he feared he would lose control already. Russo was shouting _his_ name—Russo was letting _him_ do this—Russo was _his_ —

“I love you,” he gasped out, unable to help the blaze of adoration that burst from his fëa. _Eru, Russo, I love you—_

“Don’t,” Russo croaked. “No ósanwë, remember? And—” he giggled— “ _certainly_ no invoking the One. Do you want to ruin our wedding?”

Findekáno hiccuped through his laughter, slowing down a bit and retreating back into himself. This was beautiful, this was amazing—but as of yet it was nothing they had not done before.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly, his hands making their way to Russandol’s belt. He knew what waited for him there, he’d watched Russo fall apart with his hand on his cock only a week before, but now he could _touch_ , and he shook with anticipation.

“Yes,” Russo whispered. “Please, Finno I—I need it. I need you.” His own hands settled on Findekáno’s waist, tugging off the last of his underthings even as Finno returned the favor, until at last they were naked and pressed close to one another.

Finno knew Russandol wanted him to fuck him first on their wedding night, and the thought was so arousing that he had to shove it aside so as not to ruin the moment, but seeing that long, thick cock next to his own... Finno didn’t think he was particularly small, but Russo was large in every way, it seemed. He bit his lip, imagining how that huge cock would fill him up in all the right ways, stretching his entrance and pushing deep into his body; he pictured himself taking Russo down his throat, burying his face in soft auburn curls, letting Russo fuck his mouth, choke him on his impressive length...

The first—that would have to wait. And the second...well, he’d probably have to work up to that. But he _could_ touch and taste, and glancing up at his lover for permission, Findekáno finally, _finally_ wrapped his hands around Russo’s cock.

Russandol grunted, grabbing onto Findekáno’s hips. Slowly, Finno began to stroke him, slicking his length with drops of precome, tugging in the way he knew he liked on himself. He rubbed his thumb against the head, entranced by the way Russo twitched and leaked for him, and, impulsively, he bent to kiss the slit.

His first taste of Russandol was...not quite what he’d expected. He’d tried his own fluids before, out of sheer curiosity, and had not been much impressed, but somehow he’d romanticized Russo’s taste to be something delicious and addicting. It really wasn’t anything special, he realized—but the way Russo moaned as he explored further, licking up and down his shaft, was _extraordinary_. In making Russo feel good, he felt good—that was the important thing.

He glanced up, his heart swelling as he saw how flushed Russandol was. His pupils were blown wide, his lips swollen from kissing. Findekáno wanted to devour him—and he _could_.

Without breaking eye contact, Finno closed his mouth around the head of Russandol’s cock. He gave a gentle suck, delighting in the way Russo shuddered and jerked, pushing himself a little deeper. Finno let him, taking more of his length into his mouth— _into_ him, Russo was _inside of him_ —until he hit the back of his throat. Finno pushed just a little further—there was still a ways to go—but pulled back when he started to gag.

“ _Finno_ ,” Russandol gasped, seemingly still delighted despite the misstep.

Findekáno recovered himself and took him in his mouth again. He hummed, dragging his lips back up Russo’s length, then pushing his head down once more. He had, of course, never done this before, though he’d definitely _read_ about it and fantasized and even gossiped with other young néri on the subject. _Slow,_ he reminded himself, _for your own sake, too,_ and forced himself to relax.

Russo reached out and grabbed his head. He twisted his fingers in Findekáno’s braids, and Finno shivered at the thought of Russo pulling on them, moving him forcefully up and down, fucking his mouth. He held back from sharing the image with his lover, conscious not to open a bond between them that could not be closed, and decided that for this first attempt it was probably best if he set a measured pace.

Findekáno kept his movements steady, letting the soft whimpers Russandol was making guide him. Russo hissed and flinched when Finno tried to add a hint of teeth—he pulled back to murmur his apologies, waiting for Russo to nudge him back down before he kept going—but let out a long moan of his name when he moved his hand to play with his balls. Every noise was electrifying, and Findekáno used his free hand to stroke himself in rhythm with his sucking, until they were both trembling. Findekáno pulled off Russo’s cock to catch his breath, and Russo yanked him up into a filthy kiss, their tongues meeting. He wondered if Russandol could taste himself in Finno’s mouth.

Findekáno made to return to his task, but Russo clung to him, pulling him back into his lap. “Finno,” he rasped. “Finno—you—”

“Did you not like it?” Findekáno asked worriedly. “You didn’t let me finish you off...”

“Finno, no, it was—” Russo kissed him again, their noses bumping awkwardly. Findekáno laughed, and Russo rubbed his nose, continuing, “It was—good. I liked it, a lot. I just—this first time—can we come together? And then—I’ll try it on you, with my mouth? Is that okay?”

Findekáno’s breath hitched, and he nodded his approval, kissing his lover again. His hand came between them, pressing their cocks together, and they cried out in tandem. It was—he felt—it was so good, Russo’s spit-slick shaft rubbing against Finno’s own, precome dripping and mingling, the friction delightful. He smiled into Russo’s mouth, his vision growing foggy with lust, and then—

Russo’s hand joined Finno’s, wrapping around them both. His hands were so _big_ , so _strong_ ; Findekáno thrust harder into his grasp, gasping out, “Russo, _Russo_!”

They held hands around their cocks, pressing them together firmly until Finno could hardly stand it. He guided his lover’s free hand to the curve of his ass, and Russo seemed to know what he wanted, cupping one cheek and gripping tight, those big fingers curling into the cleft, a nail brushing against Finno’s entrance—

“Russo, Russo, I’m gonna come,” he choked out. “ _Russo_ —!”

“Findekáno,” Russandol groaned, and thrust once, twice more, and then they were both spilling all over each other, seed spurting from their cocks and slicking up their stomachs. Russo held him tight, so tight, his grip around them milking more out of Finno than he knew he had in him, his other hand bruising his ass, and Finno let out a sob as he kissed him, tangling his fingers in his hair as they shuddered and spent together.

Finno wanted so badly to share everything he was feeling, to let their pleasure mingle in their minds, to let Russo feel his endless love. But he held back, instead whispering garbled praises into his beloved’s ear, doing the next best thing.

At last they collapsed together in the soft grass, breathing heavily, Findekáno lying flat on top of Russandol’s chest. His hröa thrummed with pleasure; his fëa sang with happiness. Russandol’s eyes were closed as he caught his breath, and Findekáno kissed his eyelids gently. The dizzy love that accompanied his release seemed to be affecting Russo too, and he smiled, opening his eyes a crack. Findekáno laughed softly, his bright joy reflecting in Russo’s oceanic gaze.

“I love you,” Russandol croaked, and his fëa burst open, wrapping around Findekáno and cradling him with its blazing copper warmth. “Finno, I...that was...”

Finno kissed him. “I love you, too,” he murmured. “Valar, Russo, I...I’ve wanted this for so long. Thank you, _thank you_ for making it real.”

“Was it like you dreamed?” Russo asked, and Findekáno giggled.

“No,” he said, and Russo’s face fell. He laughed harder, caressing his beloved’s cheek. “No, it was better, because it’s _real_. I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but—even the...awkward parts, they were good, because it’s _you_.”

Slowly, Russandol pushed them into a sitting position. Findekáno winced, feeling the bruise his lover had left on his ass, another thrill of arousal running through him at the memory.

“Oh,” Russo said, concerned. “Are you—? Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” Finno assured. “No more than I wanted you to.” He lifted the hand that marked him so and kissed Russo’s wrist. “You have such big hands,” he sighed. “I can’t wait to feel those fingers inside me—preparing me for that massive cock of yours—”

Russandol blushed, his hair falling in his face. “It’s not—I’m not _that_ —”

“You _are_.” Findekáno grinned, running a hand up and down Russo’s softened shaft. “Melindo, you are amazing, fëa and hröa. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“You have me,” Russandol promised. “Always, Finno, I’m yours, forever. But...” If anything, his face flushed even redder. “You’re gorgeous, too. I—your mouth around me—I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. You...” He trailed off, lost for words. “I wanted—” He shivered.

“Mm? Yes?” Finno asked, feeling him start to harden again as he continued to stroke. He knew he needed patience when it came to coaxing fantasies from Russandol, especially if they were not speaking mind to mind. “Tell me, Russ, please—I want to know.”

“I wanted to come on your face,” he confessed in a rush. “You—you’ll be mine, like I’m yours. I wanted to—claim you. Make it obvious, make you—wear my seed...” He ducked his head. “Sorry, that’s—kind of gross—and I mean, if you don’t—I’d never dream of _controlling_ you, not really—”

“Russandol,” Finno said in exasperation, kissing him to shut him up. “The only reason I wouldn’t want that would be because I wanted you to stay in my mouth and come down my throat! I _want_ you to claim me—I want what you want.” He squeezed Russo’s hand. _When we’re bonded, I think that will be clearer,_ he whispered. _We’ll be able to feel it better._

“Um,” Russandol said, not quite meeting his eye, “but for you—you want me to suck you off, right?”

Now it was Finno’s turn to blush. “I—you don’t have to—” he stammered, but Russandol was lifting them up, pressing Finno against a tree and kissing him. Their skin was still slick with their mixed release, making the slide of Russo’s cock on his upper thigh smooth and maddening, and Finno moaned.

“No use cleaning up if we’re just gonna make another mess,” Russandol growled, biting his earlobe, the deliberate way he moved against him wonderfully intoxicating.

“ _Russo_!” Finno whined, and he was hard again, overwhelmed with how much he wanted his lover.

Russandol chuckled, his earlier embarrassment gone and a commanding air about him even as he knelt before Findekáno. “My brave prince,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the base of Finno’s cock, and oh, this _was_ like the dreams, the best of them. “How I love you.”

“Russo,” Findekáno gasped, and Russandol licked a stripe up his length, gathering a mess of seed on his tongue. Slowly, deliberately, not breaking eye contact with Findekáno, he drew his tongue into his mouth and swallowed.

“Mm,” he said, breaking his concentration with a momentary frown. “Hm.”

“It’s not...tasty,” Finno agreed, reaching a hand down to stroke that lovely red hair.

“Not bad either,” Russo said. He smirked. “Tastes like _you_. And even if I hated it, I’d endure it for you, my prince.”

Without hesitating, he bent forward and took Findekáno into his mouth. For a moment he was still, his fëa sparking with something like panic even despite their attempts to keep their minds apart, and Finno tugged him off, even if he wanted nothing more than to thrust into that warm, wet mouth.

“Russo?” he asked. “You don’t have to. I don’t need you to—”

“I want to,” Russo assured him, blinking rapidly. “I was just...” He swallowed, and Findekáno bit his lip, unable to help but imagine that pressure, that movement around his cock. “I’ve never done this before, and I...want it to be good. For you.”

“I’d never done it before, either,” Findekáno murmured. “It’s alright. We’re learning together, learning each other’s bodies.”

“I didn’t _think_ you had,” Russo mumbled, blushing again, “but you...it was so...I liked it so much, and I...don’t want to do a bad job for you. I know how much you want this.”

“Russo, I love you.” Findekáno tugged lightly on his hair, and Russo’s eyes darkened even more. “You’ll do good. You’ll do _great_. And we’ll only get better at it, okay?”

“Do that again,” Russo said breathlessly.

“What?”

“Pull my hair. Please?”

Findekáno smiled slowly, tugging a little harder. Russo groaned, his jaw falling open, and he leaned forward, breath ghosting hot against Finno’s groin.

“I want you to—” Russandol nipped at the crease between his thigh and his hip, and Finno yelped, pulling more firmly this time. “ _Yes_ ,” Russandol hissed. “Yes, like that, I...” He shuddered. “Fuck my mouth, please, Finno, I want that. If you’re leading—if I’m just—here for you to do what you will with me—”

“Are you sure?” Finno asked, wishing he could look into his mind and see what it was Russo truly felt. “I...I wanted to go slow, with you, for the first time. I don’t want to hurt you, melindo...”

“I’m sure,” Russo breathed. “If I want to stop, I’ll...” He frowned. “We can’t use ósanwë,” he muttered. “I’ll—I’ll tap your leg. I just—I want...” He looked up at Findekáno adoringly. “Findekáno. You’re a—a commander.”

“Yes, ‘hair commander,’ I know,” Finno grumbled. His name was supposed to be a tribute to both _Fin_ wë and his father, Ñolofinwë Ara _káno_ , but at times it felt awfully silly for one whose hair was only remarkable because of its adornments.

“You’re pulling my hair, and you’re taking control.” Russo’s lips twitched; Finno wasn’t sure he wasn’t teasing. “I think it suits you, love.”

 _Love._ Just hearing that word, that pet name, that reminder of how much Russandol loved him—Finno’s heart swelled with joy, and he nodded. If Russo wanted this, he did too. Well. He’d wanted it for a long time, really, but he would never impose without explicit permission, and Russo had granted him that.

“You want me to fuck your mouth and pull your hair?” Findekáno repeated, letting his voice drop low and husky. “You want me to use you? You want to—to serve your prince?”

Russandol went limp, his head falling back, supported only by Finno’s grip in his hair. “Yes, please,” he whispered. “I know you like it when I try and...take over...but you’re better at it. You’re so good, Findekáno, I...”

“That’s _Prince_ Findekáno,” he drawled—but the illusion was too ridiculous, and he giggled. Russandol cracked a smile too, leaning forward to lap at Findekáno’s cock once more.

“Prince Findekáno,” Russandol said worshipfully, his voice a tantalizing hum against Finno’s flesh. “Please, your Highness, let me serve you.”

In response, Findekáno pulled him forward, shoving his cock into Russo’s mouth. Russandol moaned around the intrusion, eyes fluttering shut, taking him all the way to the base. Findekáno remembered his own inability to take Russo entirely, and felt a flash of embarrassment, but—Russo was larger, his mouth as well as his cock, and it was not as if he didn’t _want_ the glorious feeling of his beloved’s face pressed against his groin.

After a moment, Fingon pushed Russo’s head back, not quite all the way, revelling in the slide of wet lips on his cock, air cooling on the exposed base. Then he pulled Russo back, swift and unrelenting like he’d asked, and Russandol groaned, staring up at him in wordless love. Soon he quickened his pace, the world shrinking to just them, here, in this wonderful, intimate moment together.

Findekáno could barely think for how much he loved him. Russo, Russo, _Russo_ was doing this, Russo had his lips around him, Russo wanted him to fuck him, Russo wanted _him_ —it was still so hard to believe sometimes, no matter how often Russo proved it; Finno had wanted him for _so long_ that this seemed almost unreal. Was he dreaming? Would he wake up and find himself back in the midst of their scheme, Russo’s ring on his finger and yet emptiness between them?

Russo swirled his tongue around Findekáno’s cock, and Finno thrust deeper into his willing throat. Eru, but this was not like he had dreamed, it was more, it was everything, it was _Russo_ , it was _real_. He twisted his hand in Russandol’s hair, those beautiful red locks he loved so much, and pulled, using it to move Russo’s head up and down, back and forth, finding a rhythm he liked. Findekáno grunted, his whole body alight with pleasure, words of praise and love spilling from his lips.

“Russo, _Russo_ , I love you, Russo, my Russandol, Maitimo, you’re so good, _Russo_ —”

Russandol hollowed his cheeks and gripped his hips with those big hands, pulling him even closer. He slipped off of Finno’s cock with a lewd pop, panting, his eyes dark and glittering.

“Finno,” he rasped. “Is it—do you like it—?”

“Yes, _yes_ , I like it!” Findekáno tugged his hair again and watched as Russandol’s cock jerked of its own accord. “Are you—?”

“I just need—a moment,” Russo said. He rested his head against the curve of Finno’s hip, tracing patterns in Tengwar on his back. “I want you to come in me,” he whispered. “I want...on our wedding night, I want that, I want you filling me up...but I want it now, too, I want your seed hot in my mouth, dripping down my throat...”

“ _Yes_ ,” Findekáno growled, yanking his hair again, and Russandol laughed breathlessly. “Don’t touch yourself,” he commanded. “Not until I’ve come. I’ll take care of you then, I promise.”

“Yes, my prince,” Russandol said, settling his hands on Finno’s ass once more. “May I suck your cock again?”

In answer Findekáno tugged him closer, back onto his throbbing length, whispering, “Deeper—faster— _more_ —ai, Russo, _fuck_ —”

Saliva dripped from Russo’s lips; his hands gripped tight around Finno’s hips; his eyes rolled back into his head as Findekáno thrust into him. Finno watched, mesmerized, as his cock slid in and out of Russo’s mouth, those perfect lips stretched wide for him, just for him, and he remembered what Russandol had said about him being beautiful like this. It must have been true, for if he was half as gorgeous as Russandol was now, moaning around him, begging for it, wanting him so badly and _taking_ him so well—

“Russo,” he gasped, “Russo, I’m going to—”

That was all the warning he had before he came, thrusting deep into his lover’s throat, feeling Russandol choke around him, swallow him down as he spilled. Findekáno drew back, shaking, as his climax abated, watching Russo splutter and gag and take his seed. His mouth was full of it, staining his teeth, coating his tongue, dribbling out onto his lips; Findekáno laughed with wild elation. _He_ had done that, _he_ had been the one to mark Russo up, it was _his_ come that Russo half-swallowed and half-spat, his chest heaving.

“I love you,” Findekáno said, his trembling knees buckling until he sat beside his lover. “Russo, I...was that alright? You look...” Beautiful. Debauched. A little pained.

Russo nodded, wiping his mouth. “That was...intense,” he croaked. “Maybe...maybe we should’ve gone slower.”

“I’m sorry,” Findekáno began, but Russo shook his head and grabbed his hand.

“No, I wanted it,” he said. “I did, I do. But—” He grinned crookedly, some of Finno’s seed still staining his teeth. “Maybe next time...a little gentler. I don’t know if I can repeat that...yet.”

“When I fuck you for real,” Findekáno murmured, reaching down to stroke Russandol’s thick, red cock, “I’ll be very slow. I’ll take you apart, make you feel every inch of me...even if I’m not as big as you, I’ll go so deep...”

“You’re quite long,” Russandol teased, but he held Finno’s other hand as if he never wanted to let it go, leaning into his grasp. “Valar, Fin, when your pushed into my throat...I thought about tapping out, but it was so _good_ , I could tell how much you liked it, I...” He stifled a gasp as Findekáno twisted his hand, rubbing at the head of his cock. “Oh, _Finno_. Don’t—don’t think for a moment I don’t want you in me, it’s all I think about some nights...”

“I hope I’ve given you more to think about, arimelda,” Findekáno hissed, mouthing at his neck. “I hope this is what you remember next time you touch yourself...I know it’s what I’ll be thinking of.”

“Finno, Finno,” Russandol moaned. “Of course, of course I will—I love you, Findekáno Astaldo, I love you so much, I wish I could marry you right now, I wish you could fuck me here in the grass, I wish—”  
  
Findekáno claimed his mouth in a kiss. _I love you,_ he promised, forgetting for the moment the need to keep their minds apart. _I’ll take you slow, love, I’ll take you gentle. But like you took me down your throat...I want you to take my ass like that, fast and hard, fill me up entirely until the only thing I know is you—_

“Finno, you—I—” Russandol pushed him away slightly. “Finno, you’re gonna make me—we can’t, not yet—”

Findekáno flushed, closing himself off again. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, picking up his pace. “It’s just that I want that too, Russo, so badly...”

“Soon,” Russo said through gritted teeth, and then, “ _ai_ , Finno, I’m—!”

He spilled over Findekáno’s hand, and Finno ducked his head to lap at his cock even as he spurted out more seed. The taste was stronger than it had been before, and he found himself growing used to it. If this was what being with Russo meant, he thought he could learn to love it.

He pushed Russandol down onto the grass, murmuring abstract words of love, setting to cleaning him up. They hadn’t thought ahead to bring rags, but Findekáno deemed that his scarf, a garish yellow thing he’d bought on a whim some years ago, was an appropriate sacrifice for the mess he didn’t want to clean with his tongue. Russandol relaxed as Findekáno worked, his fëa warm and bright, gentle thoughts floating to Finno in the fuzzy, abstract way he was used to. Elemmírë had said it became sharper, clearer with a proper bond; Findekáno looked forward to knowing Russo even better, even deeper.

“Love you,” Russo mumbled when Finno finished and tossed the scarf aside. He briefly considered redressing, but the sky was a soft gold as Laurelin approached its waning, the grass was soft, and his lover looked as if he would drift off to sleep at any moment. Clothes could wait, decided, and he curled up next to Russo, resting his head on his beloved’s chest. Russandol wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer, and kissed the top of his head.

“Love you,” Findekáno whispered, his desires sated for the moment, his heart warm with contentment to be here with his betrothed, the love of his life, in such a perfect moment after such an exhilarating release of the tension they’d built up between them for so very long. “Always, Russo. Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Finno's POV is about half done (and looking to be almost as long as the main fic...sigh) - subscribe to the series if you want notifications for when I post that and other installments!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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